


show off

by elizabethelizabeth



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bossy Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), F/F, Ineffable Wives (Good Omens), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), in that Crowley is absolute pants at seduction, so it's a good thing that Aziraphale likes Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23920387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizabethelizabeth/pseuds/elizabethelizabeth
Summary: “You know,” Crowley said conversationally. “It’s incredibly difficult being married to you.”“Oh? Enlighten me of your suffering.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 165





	show off

**Author's Note:**

> a sequence of how this came to be:  
> I wrote a two-sentence snippet  
> Claire/doorwaytoparadise/nothistoryart drew [THE MOST GORGEOUS ART OF ALL TIME OH MY GOD](https://twitter.com/nothistoryart/status/1246176662737297420) of said snippet  
> I screamed about it, and then took a month to write a whole ass fic about it
> 
> it's the circle of life, baby

“What in heaven are you wearing, my darling?”

Crowley had worn a number of ridiculous outfits over the years. Never settling for one style, always willing to push at the limits, and foregoing any semblance of fitting in with any crowd, Crowley had strived to never be conventional. It seemed her personal endeavor to either offend or surprise, and succeeded sportingly at both. Aziraphale, over the years, had never suggested she changed. The overwhelming amounts of polyester in the nineteen-seventies and the see-through linen in the seventies (that’s B.C., mind) had given the angel cause for blushing alarm, but far be it from Aziraphale to ever demand a change from the being who changed as part of her personality. If Crowley was going to change, it would be on her own terms. If Crowley was going to wear what she wanted, there were no higher or lower powers who could stop her. 

This, however…

“You don’t like it?”

Crowley tried to sound petulant, at least Aziraphale knew that was her goal, but all Crowley managed to sound like was scheming and serpent-quick. Crowley stood at the foot of their bed, hip cocked in such a way to accentuate the ratio of hip to waist. The curve that existed there, however slight it was, always held Aziraphale’s hand so perfectly. It was being further emphasized by the frankly ridiculous bit of lingerie that Crowley had acquired. Black, but that was no surprise. Crowley only ever bought black clothing for herself. It was Aziraphale who convinced her to wear any other color. The surprising part of the whole display was the straps. Aziraphale couldn’t think of any other way to describe them. The crossed Crowley’s shoulders and torso, hugged her waist and her thighs, indented into her skin enough that Aziraphale knew that, should Crowley wear it for long, it would leave darling red lines on her otherwise unmarred skin. There wasn’t any way Crowley missed Aziraphale’s eyes roving over her figure, always insistent on catching Aziraphale’s admiration. 

“You know perfectly well that I love it.”

Aziraphale did, and immensely so.

Crowley brushed a lock of hair from her forehead in an attempt to hide the beginnings of a blush. Aziraphale was just as observant and did not miss any of it. 

“Naughty thing. Did you want to show off for me? Is that it?”

“You know,” Crowley said conversationally. “It’s incredibly difficult being married to you.” As she spoke, she crawled towards Aziraphale. The angle gave the angel a rather delightful glimpse of Crowley’s chest, admired the way the light accentuated her skin against the black pull of fabric. Aziraphale bit her lip, though not at all embarrassed at being affected. The show of things, the play of it—Aziraphale bites her lip, Crowley licks hers in response, the rhythm and routine of this is an automatic response.

“Oh? Enlighten me of your suffering.”

“I have to be around you all day. And you have the gall to look gorgeous all the while.”

“Truly a hardship.”

“It’s fucking rude is what it is."

Aziraphale doesn’t know quite what Crowley sees, sometimes. She dresses practically, keeps her hair reasonably short, doesn’t put on airs, or show off. It doesn’t seem to matter, though. Crowley had said, once, that Aziraphale could be wearing a burlap sack and she’d still find her attractive. Aziraphale doesn’t understand, but she’s not going to complain at the compliments.

“Anyway,” Crowley continued, sliding forward on her knees in a way that should have been awkward, and probably was, but the only thing Aziraphale could focus on was the subtle sway of Crowley’s hips. “I’ve had to look at you all day and resist jumping your bones.”

“Is that an American expression?” Crowley hovered above her now, knees on either side of Aziraphale’s hips. There was a fetching flush in Crowley’s cheeks and that flowed down her neck and shoulders where it disappeared into the fabric at Crowley’s chest. “Rather crass.”

“Are you going to let me seduce you  _ at all  _ tonight?”

“Oh? Was that seduction? All I heard were complaints about my person.” Quick as anything, Aziraphale hooked a leg around Crowley’s waist, flipping their positions. It took barely any angelic effort, but it was enough and it was worth it for the look of surprise on Crowley’s face. “You think it’s so hard for you, don’t you?” Aziraphale breathed the words into Crowley’s neck, speaking quiet enough that she knew the demon would have to hold her own breath to hear her. There was no other sound save for Aziraphale’s admonishments, their home knew better than to settle and squeak while Aziraphale spoke softly. “Do you know how wet I get when I look at you?”

Crowley moaned.

Aziraphale continued on despite the interruption. “It doesn’t matter what you’re doing. Gardening, cooking, being a mouthy tart in lingerie. It doesn’t matter. You’re always gorgeous. You’re always affecting me. I always want you.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whined and shifted her hips, expecting friction and getting none. The flush had spread, much to Aziraphale’s delight and despite Crowley’s best efforts, and Aziraphale could feel the heat of it emanating and beckoning. Crowley pulled uselessly at Aziraphale’s bra, unforgiving cotton unrelenting and impassable. “Aziraphale,  _ fuck,  _ why aren’t we naked yet?” One of her hands left Aziraphale’s shoulders, poised to snap a miracle. “I can—”

Aziraphale had Crowley’s wrists pinned to their bed in another angelic instant. She smiled down at her demon but kept her voice low. “If you move from this position, make any attempt to rush me, you're not getting fucked at all.”

Crowley’s sclera performed a disappearing act, yellow irises expanding to better take in the looming and leering angel above her. 

Aziraphale sat back, letting go of Crowley’s wrists in the process. She grinned. “ _ That’s  _ how you perform a seduction, love.”

Crowley groaned, covering her face in a failed attempt to preserve her waning dignity. “Tease. You’re a tease and I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do, actually.”

“I wish I did,” Crowley retorted, peeking through her fingers to find Aziraphale  _ still  _ grinning. “You’re impossible. It’s not right.  _ I’m  _ supposed to be the stubborn one between us.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a sappy pushover. You haven’t been stubborn for centuries.” Banking on Crowley being too distracted to notice, Aziraphale adjusted to lay on her stomach between Crowley’s spread and tensed thighs. A quick glance up Crowley’s torso confirmed that the demon was still covering her face in mortification. “I’m going to eat you out now. Be good and lie still, won’t you?” With that preamble, Aziraphale moved the fabric out of her line of focused fire and applied her tongue to Crowley’s clit.

Crowley’s scream echoed in the impossibly silent house, reverberating along the walls and seeping into the rugs. “Aziraphale!” Crowley sobbed. She fisted the sheets, kept her hands where Aziraphale had left them. Had she the brain function, Crowley would be annoyed at how obedient she was to Aziraphale’s commands. “Fuck me, please. Angel. Fingers, please.”

Aziraphale hummed, made sure the vibrations were as noticeable as possible. She pulled back, but only barely, words more hot breath than sound. “I don’t think I will.”

“You—”

“I think you’re going to come just from my tongue. Can you do that for me, darling?”

Crowley moaned again. 

“I need a verbal answer, Crowley.”

“Fuck you,  _ yes!  _ Just don’t stop, please,  _ don’t stop.” _

Aziraphale thanked Crowley for her cooperation physically rather than verbally, and Crowley came rather too quickly for Crowley’s tastes, but just in time for Aziraphale’s. She took it as a point of pride, making the demon come undone so easily. 

She’d be ready for another round momentarily, so it didn’t matter all that much in the long run.

“Where did you get this, by the way?” Aziraphale followed the fabric’s path with her nails, traced the crisscrossed straps along Crowley’s hips.

“Internet,” was all Crowley could manage, breathing heavily.

“Do you think I’d look good in one of them?”

Crowley growled. “Do  _ not  _ tempt me. They had one in gold.”

“I succeed at seduction  _ and  _ temptation? How unangelic of me.”

“It’s a good thing I love you.” Crowley pulled Aziraphale up by her shoulders, sealing her declaration with a kiss. 

“I think you love me  _ because  _ of my personality, not despite it.,” Aziraphale argued, and then proceeded to demonstrate many other reasons Crowley loved her. 


End file.
